To Catch a Criminal, to Catch a Heart
by RequiemTales
Summary: Agent Jack Frost, son of the alleged Story Book killer, was a childhood genius and now employed at Claussen Detective's Agency. However, North has partnered him with Agent Pitch Black who has always worked alone. Follow them as they solve several cases and attempt to capture Jack's dad, all the while dealing with their blossoming love. Will they even survive?(ModernAU,M/M,BlackIce)
1. Chapter 1- Extra Luggage?

**A/N: **Hello everyone! Here I am with another story, this time a crime investigation, BlackIce fanfic! I want to write this in a way that it is similar to how criminal TV shows are displayed…So, I'm going to try my hand at this and hope it turns out well. Alright, so here's a brief breakdown of warnings for this story in general:

**Warnings**: Will contain; M/M sex (yaoi, lemons, whatever you want to call it. Yay, BlackIce! :D), gore, possible rape, psychological twists, abuse (physical or otherwise), incorrect term usage on occasion (I'm sorry, I'm not _that _familiar with criminology), and hard language.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Rise of the Guardians nor do I own anything that may have to do with certain cases and possibilities displayed in this story. It'll probably be by chance if that happens anyhow.

* * *

Her palms were sweaty as she gripped the armrests of the chair. The rope cut into her skin, causing it to turn a red-raw, as it was tightened around his torso. Her confused eyes danced around the room in nervous terror, slowly comprehending that this room was _very _unfamiliar. Emerald green scanned the alabaster walls that contained far too many cracks to be an occupied building, the ceiling looked as if it were exposed to one too many smokers from the brown spots, and the fluorescents flickered and dimmed every couple of minutes. The woman was on edge, not able to grasp her surroundings, but still trying for the sake of her sanity. _Where was she?_

The girl turned her head to see if there were any windows to glance out of, though she knew no one would be stupid enough to allow such a scenario when she was _obviously _restrained to a chair. Frantically she whipped her head from side to side, groaning when it was to no avail, a kink in her neck now present and aching. A moment later, she atoned that she could not feel the swish of her hair across her shoulders as her head moved. A quick glance of her peripherals, and the woman knew that her once luscious, blonde locks had been cut to her chin in a botched face frame. _Where had it gone?_

As her mind slowly grasped the concept that she was indeed restrained in a room unknown, panic rose in her throat. Her eyes darted more quick, overlooking the cracks that now morphed into devoid holes in the wall. They appeared as if they were gaping, growing, stealing her very soul through the darkness. Her hands clenched the armrests so tight her knuckles were going white and becoming stiff, but did she care?-Of course not. _Was she going to stay here forever?_

Only an hour prior had this trapped woman been hauling a taxi, looking for a way home. The rain had let up and she had been debating whether or not to just bite the bullet and walk home. However, when a man in one of the cars pulled over, her mind had jumped at the chance. He had offered her the ride and she had accepted, seeing no harm in taking a taxi that was certified. _Was it certified?_

The blonde finally lost it, her eyes closing and tears rimming the ducts, as a guttural cry pried itself from the very core of her body. She opened her mouth wide, teeth glinting in the dimming lights, and she screamed as if she never had before. It was as if a prey were crying for help, a woman secluded and in need of savior was looking for a hero, a girl who was unsure she would make it out any other way doing the only thing she felt she could. Her voice was her last chance, if she were silenced, oh there would be grief and pity residing in her mind. With that last assumption, she gasped and cried out again…and again…and again…and again…

Until, as her eyes were squeezed shut with trailing tears, an unseen hand clamped over her mouth and silencedher…_Where had the hand come from?_

* * *

"Nicholas, I've told you hundred times, I don't do well with the newbies, I much prefer to work alone." Pitch grumbled with his arms crossed almost childishly about his chest. His honey brown, practically gold, eyes glistened with defense. This was a topic he did not like to breech with the man. No matter how lenient Commanding Officer, Nicholas North, made himself sound…He was never truly suggesting something, it was always an order. The robust, almost _jolly, _man was simply patient when dealing with denying workers.

"And _I _have told _you _a hundred times to call me North. But, are you listening?-No, I think not." North sat with a large grin about his face, despite the current dispute. One of his large hands was tapping on his mahogany desk and his other hand was holding a stack of papers; Files that held recent cases that were under closure and in need of assigned agents to bring it down. Stress was apparent in the contours of his face; But otherwise, he looked happier than anyone _should _working in such a place.

"_North, _I just find it impossible to solve this grand scale case with extra…luggage." Supervisory Special Agent, Pitch Kozmotis, declared a bit more languid, trying to keep his bitterness under control.

North, sighing, tossed the files onto his desk, "I assure you, Agent Frost won't be any sort of liability to you, Pitch. If anything he'll be the one to put the missing pieces into place for this particular case. Albeit his brains, he still is shy with his on-field experience, that's another reason why I assigned him to you. If anyone's good on the job, it's you."

Pitch raised his hands in mock aggression, "Don't try to convince me with underlying compliments, North. I'm here to bring criminals to justice, to find and avenge those unfortunate enough to meet these fates…Not train some dog who is supposedly a Labrador instead of a mutt!"

"Give the poor boy a chance, you haven't had a partner in years and I honestly think this will be good for you. Frost is a bit…Peculiar to say the least; However, that is precisely what you need! You're always so…analytical with these cases, so _tunnel vision, _Frost is a very eccentric kid who looks at the cases creatively. It'll be a nice balance, like the way red and white stripes are on a candy cane."

The darker male shook his head, "_Again _with the candy cane similes?"

"Look, Pitch, I understand your dedication to this position, you and Aster are my top SSA's, but, even the best require help occasionally. I've seen this kid in action, the way he thinks, the way he _perceives _things. His past is a prime cause for this, sure, but you two are the stripes necessary for a candy cane. Just give him a chance."

Pitch sighed again, closing his eyes. He knew, despite North's sentence formations, that he truly had no choice. It was just that working alone was so much _easier _than having to ensure your partner was okay or caught up on certain things. Pitch ran his hands through his hair, a hard expression forming in his eyes.

"Look North, you've been in this line far longer than I and perhaps that's the only reason I'm agreeing to this…But, don't expect me to be _jolly _about it?-Alright? If I find the kid too inadequate to work on my side, I'm going to tell you and I'm going to have him revoked from my side."

"Understandable. All I ask is that you give him a chance. I can provide you with basic background now, personal information you'll have to learn from him on your own time."

The darker male nodded, asking the commanding officer to continue, "I won't require personal information so bank on my not asking him, however, do proceed with basics. I suppose it does well to know who I'm going to be…_Working _with and why you have him on such a pedestal already."

North's smile broadened and he pulled a file from the dead center of the stack on his desk. There were sticky notes (of course red and green only) sticking out from the top and bottom, holding odd marking spots and probably detailed notes sent in from Frost's schooling and previous agency. The robust man flipped open the manila folder and swiped out a picture of Jack, his eyes shining almost iridescent in the photograph. His smile was cocky, his skin a light tan, and his white hair casually swept upward.

"Junior Supervisory Special Agent Jack Frost, aged twenty. He graduated high school at age thirteen and has bachelors in several subjects ranging from psychology all the way to mathematics. He will be working on obtaining his first PhD in Chemistry once he reaches twenty-one this year, and…Is the son of the alleged _Story-Book Killer."_

"How can someone so young…Be so accomplished? Everything you just told me sounds impossible for any _one _kid to handle. Taking on this job while trying to get his PhD, is that such a good idea?" Pitch's golden eyes were wide as he held up the image of the twenty year old, scanning over the high cheekbones and bowstring lips, taking in the icy-blue eyes. He atoned for the young adult's confidence that was so easily exemplified through the image, he assessed it was due to his intense intelligence and good looks-Anyone with such a combo would feel high and mighty. Pitch hoped he wasn't too much like that in person…The senior SSA couldn't stand inflated egos, especially from the juniors. He felt they were the death of people and this boy would surely be no different.

"If his previous accomplishments in school were not enough to convince me, or anyone on the board, of his efficiency, I would not be sure what it would take." North picked the photo from Pitch's fingers, sliding it back into the manila folder and placing the file back in the center of the pile, exactly where it had rested before.

"You both will start together tomorrow, I know your main case is to capture the Story-Book Killer, but, until there are leads that require your full attention, I will be assigning you to various cases as per usual. You and Jack will begin tomorrow briefing one another, and unless you're both required on the scene of a case gone wrong, I'll be giving you both your first mission together. Understood?"

Pitch's eyes darkened a shade, now caramelized to amber as he processed that this was really going to happen. "If it's Bunnymund you send on _any _mission tomorrow, I can assure you, Jack and I will be having little time to talk," The man smirked, standing from his chair in a languid manner to take his exit.

"Ha-ha, very funny Kozzie, you know just as well as I do, that I can handle my own. Thank you very much!" The booming, Australian accented voice of E. Aster Bunnymund sounded deeply from behind the more lithe form. Pitch turned around with a sarcastic glint in his eye and North chuckled at the display before him.

"Ah, I humbly apologize, sometimes I forget your brawns when I refer to you simply by your last name, _Bunny." _

Aster's eyes narrowed in defense but his lips tugged upward and he slammed Pitch on the shoulder, "I'd love to bicker with you, mate, but I've got a briefing to go over with Nicho-North, so why don't you scurry off into the dark recesses of the office as you do?"

"After the information I've received today…That sounds like the best thing for me. I'll be doing filing at my desk if you need me North. Thank you for this opportunity that _I do not want. _Good-bye," Pitch, ever so formal, bid his goobyes and stepped out of the room, fully aware that tomorrow was going to be an interesting (yet, not enjoyable) day full of too many surprises.

* * *

**A/N: **In our next chapter, _Without Arms_, we get to meet the rest (or at least the majority) rest of this crime solving team! (Which of course includes Pitch's and Jack's meeting, yaaaay) and even get to see some on the job shit, perhaps leading us to where the Hell this stranger chick is!


	2. Chapter 2- Without Arms

**A/N: Hey look, I start this one with a small poem because I am a sap and a butt who likes poetry. Anyway, thank you for follows and everything :D So, do enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

_Without arms, I lift you high_

_So perhaps you can touch the sky_

_And when you return, you can rely to me_

_What it is like to feel so free_

* * *

Jack Frost had never ventured within the Claussen Detective's Agency before. He had met a few of the staff, Agent Bunnymund and profiler Jamie Bennett included; however, the office was still a foreign barrier and so was his partner. A set smile was plastered about his expression as he passed through the sliding glass doors of the Agency and he sauntered in, taking in the surroundings with a clear, precise mind. His sharp eyes captured everything and wove into his memory, something he had been doing since long before he knew he had such a powerful memory recollection, the way it was set.

The Agency was harsh to the eye if to put it nicely. It wasn't that the place was disorganized (for it was more than in tip-top shape), nor was it that everyone seemed quite eager to work (and that was certainly uncommon for workers to appear), no, it was the surplus using of reds, greens, and whites. The walls with pictures and certificates were lined with red frames; the desks that had manila folders all contained sticky notes with the Christmas array of colours, even the left hand corner of the room bore a Christmas tree that stood tall amongst the cliché. And so, all of this had Jack Frost's curiosity certainly piqued.

What were all of these decorations doing set up in the middle of October?!

"Hello?" A voice called from behind the young adult. When Jack was still so immersed in his thoughts he did not reply, the feminine voice piped up louder, "White and early, are you Agent Jack Frost?"

The male turned around and smiled brightly with a small laugh, "White and early?-That's certainly…new. But, yes, I am Jack."

"Oh wow, you're a cutie!" Contact lense-violet eyes scanned the entire form of the junior agent before returning to ice blue irises, "And what _marvelous _teeth! Can I…I'm going to peek inside." The tan woman pulled Jack down by his striped blue and black tie and pried his mouth open with her manicured fingers, looking at the canines and squealing with joy at how utterly beautiful the new guy's teeth were. In the excitement, she hadn't even realized she had called attention to herself and not even said who she was!

"That's Tatiana, but, I'm sure you can guess why we call her Toothiana at this point." Another male's voice explained from Jack's left. He glanced over and his expression immediately lit up…Well, as much as one's can when being examined by a somewhat stranger.

"Jamshie?" Frost slurred, trying to swat Toothiana to remove her hands from his mouth.

"Mhm, long time no see, huh, Jack?" When the other didn't reply, Jamie finally stepped in and gently removed Tooth's hands from the newbie's mouth, "Toothiana here is our Forensic Anthropologist, whose favourite part of bone structure is the teeth."

"Yep, I work with the-"

Jack cut the woman off by habit when he knew he understood her position, "You work with bone examination of remnants of humans and, or, animals on the scene of a case. You must also be trained in carbon printing to pry dates for the murders and ages of the victims. I would also make the assumption you especially enjoy the dental aspect of the work due to being able to decipher a person's identity through them just as one could use a fingerprint. Correct?"

Violet eyes were round and large as she smiled happily and nodded, "Seems like North picked a good one, huh Jamie?"

"Tooth you have _no idea, _I met Jack on a separate case once when this department called in a favour from Jack's school. Even back then he was this smart, a total know-it-all if you ask me. I wonder how they're going to work together? They seem like complete opposites though…"

The petite woman nodded her head vigorously, her oddly coloured, pixie cut hair swaying with the movement, "He's so much taller too…If they got into a serious argument, he'd totally beat Jack down."

"Oh man," Jack began, "Does this mean…Am I partnered with…_Bunny? _You remember how that went, _right_?_" _Jamie's smile was lopsided as he was going to correct Jack. It was true; the favour he had been called in for had ended with a large wall of spite and hate between Jack and the Australian.

"As much as I would prefer your working with that oaf, I am sorry to inform you that instead, I'll be having the _displeasure _of working alongside _you."_

For the third time that day, Jack turned around to face a new speaker. This time, he was awestruck by his partner. With inauspicious golden eyes and lips set in a firm line, the man standing before Jack Frost truly was his complete opposite. Where the junior agent dawned a blue vest and crisp white undershirt to accompany his blue and black tie with fitting black pants, the darker man wore a simple black dress shirt with stylish black pants and a solid red tie. Frost's white hair was unruly and boyish at a glance; the dark, combed locks of the other were handsome and mature.

Jack swallowed to regain his wits and offered another shining smile that caught Pitch off guard, "Hm, well, with time I'll be able to turn that into pleasure, don't you worry."

Pitch's face contorted into something borderline disgust and amusement at the younger's lack of fear. However, he realized he had failed to come up with a snarky retort when he heard Toothiana and Jamie's snickers hidden behind their hands.

Jack winked and then returned to his previous demeanor, "I'm junior special agent Jack Frost, your new partner and I'm pleased to have this opportunity to work with someone as experienced as you."

"Senior special agent Pitch and I'm simply _flattered _by your enthusiasm to work alongside me," Pitch drawled, his voice holding more than a sprinkle of sarcasm.

"I'm sure you are because you should be. Someone as praised as I has very little people to look up to for guidance, considering I'm usually the one looking down on others."

The darker man blinked, surprised by the young adult's reply. What had that expression been in those ultramarine eyes?-A hint of something like longing? Boredom? Disappointment? _Avarice?_

Whatever the look had been, it had disappeared the moment Pitch spotted it and was replaced with the acute accuracy of mischief as earlier. Like a storm that had stirred up the waves of a sea, the look had awoken the curiosity within Pitch that had only ever come in small tides. Deciding to skip over that odd tidbit, Pitch simply continued on, ready to get to work and prove to North that this kid was inadequate. "North told me yesterday that you and I should give small briefings to understand each other better," Jack's cocked his head at the older male, " But, I find that a waste of time. So, instead, we're going to go and retrieve our first case because I know he's got one set up and ready for us."

However, just as the two were going to seek North out, the robust man burst forth from his office doors with a worried expression on his face. With one scan of the area from his overbearing height, he spotted Jack and Pitch and strode over to them. He held out a green folder with reindeer stickers at each corner and pushed it into Jack's arms.

"You two, read this later. All the information for you current assignment is in there. Right now, I need you both over on Court Street to take a look at some _very _disturbing things that will also need to be filed into that thing."

* * *

Toothiana's back was hunched over the remains of a horribly beaten body. Blonde hair was hacked in a very crude fashion; eyes were now the shade of dull green that did no justice for the once luminous emerald they previously bore. Tooth scowled as she prodded the mouth of the victim to dab it with a swab for DNA testing.

"Looks like she has been dead for a mere eleven hours by the looks of her eyes," Jack stated, also bending down next to the eccentric anthropologist. Her radically coloured hair was held back with an equally insane headband that was bejeweled with fake amethyst looking gems.

"Maybe even ten if we account for the moisture still residing in her body, but no less than that," She relied, pocketing the swab in a glass vial. "He hacked off her fingers…The sick bastard."

The junior detective stood once more, scouting the area for Pitch and caught up with him. Taking in what he was examining-A portrait of the same woman with her mouth scratched over. It looked like an average ballpoint pen was scribbled over the picture so many times that the paper had begun to tear into white. Jack reached forward with his gloved finger and caressed the angry scratching, his eyebrows knitting together.

"They wanted her silent?"

Pitch nodded, "By the looks of it. But, on the corpse it doesn't look like he did anything particularly gruesome to her mouth."

"It's quite odd though isn't it?-For someone to take some of his time during, prior, or even _after _a murder…To scribble out her mouth on a portrait he must have also stolen? Someone would have to harbor extreme loathe against this woman."

"Your point?" The senior agent questioned. It wasn't a snappy question entitled to anger Jack, simply one of genuine curiosity for insight on what the Frost boy was thinking.

"Well, I just find it weird he wouldn't have committed anything especially heinous to her mouth is all…"

The duo continued from the picture, telling someone to take it for fingerprint scanning along the way. The warehouse was small, the other rooms long ago having collapsed to insufficiency. It appeared as if it were once an office with several cubicles…Now, a horrid ghost, a shadow of the business world and its underlying anger. The windows were tinted and covered with a crust of grime and dust, making it even more difficult to see within. The walls were peeling and chipped, cracked from foreign objects crashing into the walls God knows how long ago. Even the sunlight trying to battle its fiery way within the room was failing, only succeeding in casting odd shapes and shadows about the walls.

After a few minutes of walking and listening to the authorities conjure assumptions and appoint orders, Jack stumbled with his footing. His darker partner turned around hearing the fumble and cocked a brow, "You alright?" But, Jack was not listening. His eyes focused on the ground where his black shoe refused to budge. He knew what he had stumbled on; he knew what had caused his flub in footing.

In a slow motion, he lifted his foot and bent down to pick up the object…A finger cut off from its home right at the knuckle of a hand. The nail was even manicured an argent silver that accompanied the dead woman's outfit. There was no doubt the finger belonged to her.

"Its…It's a _finger_? You stepped on her finger?" Pitch took a step closer and gazed at the slightly oozing appendage. He crinkled his nose, plucked it from Jack's hand, and beckoned Toothiana over. The petite woman gasped and took it, shaking her head.

"I bet the rest of them are over here somewhere. If we can just find one of the thumbs, it would make this all the easier."

Frost's eyes darkened a shade as realization smacked him in the face. "You won't find many more of them over here guys."

"That's ludicrous, the killer most likely severed them for the fun of torment and they went in all directions," Pitch stated, already scanning the floor for more.

"Not unless…" He trailed off and walked over to the dead body, the people sealing up her body parted for him. Jack swiped a hand through his white hair and used his other hand to gently pry the woman's lips apart. Red lipstick got on his gloves but he paid this no heed. With a sickening _suction _sound, they were pulled apart. He slid his finger past her tongue and down her throat, meeting something that _definitely _shouldn't have been there.

"I believe I have found where the other fingers went, well, were _forced_…Or at least the majority of them." Jack announced, pulling a thumb from the confines of the woman's throat, holding it up for Tooth to take away.

Pitch's shoes echoed in the room as he crouched behind Jack, using the boy's shoulder for leverage as he peered within the woman's red throat as well. His golden eyes were more akin to that of sand in their hue than amber now, and the junior agent atoned that was due to his disgust in this whole situation.

"This explains the picture now," His voice was a tone deeper as he spoke, a bit quieter. Almost like a gust of wind that rustled the canopy of trees, his voice spoke close next to Jack's face, "_This is how he silenced her_…"

* * *

**A/N: Sick bastard fed her her own fingers…And so, perhaps in the next chapter, Ivory Keys, we will learn as to **_**why **_**that was the way they silenced her. It really is symbolic, well to the murderer at least. Oh, and that chapter may be up a touch late due to my going on a small roadtrip to visit family for this week. Depending on how much free time I have, will determine if the chapter will be up during the week or on the weekend. Sorry in advance!**


	3. Chapter 3- Ivory Keys

**A/N: Aaaaaaaaaand, here I am with Chapter Three. I want to thank you guys for the comments and stuff, I appreciate them a lot! I hope it isn't obvious…But, I am nervous about the way I'm spacing out this story and any feedback is welcome and great. But, either way, thanks everyone for reading!**

* * *

_Once upon a time_

_I lit my heart on fire_

_To see if the raging flames_

_Would quench my desire_

_But, instead I was left with shame_

_So I let the flames rage higher_

_And so I continue this game_

_Though the heat is a destructive liar…_

* * *

The lights were dim and the ivory whites shimmered, delicate against their black accompaniments. A feminine finger pressed against the porcelain and a note hung in the air, a beautiful sound that was heavy with the promise of more. The finger was joined by its siblings, the rest of the hand beginning to dance and skim across the rectangular pieces. With each note, a hum escaped baby pink, petal soft lips. As the small notes began to harmonize into a song, so did the voice escaping the bowels of the woman's entire being.

The music sheets were crinkled and old looking, worn from travel and pocketing. There were several folding creases, a sure sign that this woman has stuffed them in her pocket for sight-reading during a wait on the bus, anywhere time would permit, maybe even at a table eating her dinner. Perhaps she had even sat with a Mocha in hand and the several music sheets in the other, reading and sipping, accounting the array of sharps and flats to memory so she could assure that she'd play it with the beautiful accuracy such defined music deserved. That would certainly explain the splash of coffee droplets adorning the right hand corner of the second and third pages.

During one of the measured pauses, the woman who was quite obviously the killer's next victim, swiped her long blonde tendrils behind her ear to continue without distractions. Her eyes were a hard, mossy green. They were experienced and knowing, jumping from note to note as her fingers followed the rhythm well. Her heart leapt into her throat as she almost hit the wrong key, her breathing stuttered, her hands quaked for a moment. It was a hesitant moment.

But, she carried on, fixing her mistake before it was even made.

_Come on Clarice, you can do this, he's watching. He tolerates no mistakes._

"Calm your breathing, _she _never would have been so nervous, don't forget your part," A masculine voice sounded from behind Clarice. She nodded hesitantly in response and continued on.

The song was almost over. _Thank God._

"That's it, play the notes as I am playing with your life," The voice sounded again, adrenaline spiking in Clarice's heart.

Her hard eyes were beginning to soften, the mossy shade turning into one of fear and velvet, displaying that the cold vice of terror was capturing her heart in a solid grip. The fear were dark fingers gripping and squeezing her beating heart of all its blood and when the fingers would release for a fleeting second, the heart would suck in the spikes and shots of adrenaline that made her own fingers jump on the piano. Her manicure was splayed and broken, chipped at the tips, but did that matter? Would it matter hours from now when she'd be found lying dead on the cold floor, her body colder than the frigid air that swept the evening streets at this late hour?

No, it would not matter at all. All that mattered now was that Clarice had missed a note.

She messed up. Some would say screwed royally, Clarice's boyfriend who was asleep in bed, peacefully dreaming of nothingness that Clarice wish she could immerse into, would say she had totally _fucked _up. There was no chance.

Though it wasn't as if she ever had a chance anyhow.

_Oh please no, he did not notice that, did he? He didn't. It was subtle. It's all good Clarice._

Oh, but he did. The man who was so tall he towered over her straightened posture on the wooden bench had heard the falter in the notes. What had he said his name was? Her captor, the man who loomed her darkest corners and diminished her hope?-_He never said his name. Or did he?_

Clarice shook her head vigorously in panic, she had lightly brushed the incorrect key, a sharp instead of a flat, it was so obvious that it almost hurt her ears. Her hands wouldn't obey correctly now. Clarice couldn't breathe, suddenly her lungs were escaping her chest, flying away like inflated balloons. Her heart was crushed by those clawed fingers of fear. Her brittle mind and survival instincts shattered like fragmented glass, spraying across the room like the flecks of blood from her earlier struggle.

"Oh Clarice…You missed that note." The man was closer now, "You missed it," He repeated louder, "You _missed _it," Right behind Clarice now, "You can never be her!"

The blonde finally snapped, frantically she stood and backed up while simultaneously tripping over a leg of the grand piano, "B-Be who!?"

"_Her, _you could never be her! Your voice, its just like hers…You don't deserve the voice of such an angel!" The man reached for Clarice's hand and she tried in vain to get away. She yanked her hand back and he pounced on her and pinned her body to the ground with the mass of his own muscled one. His broad shoulders blocked the view of everything…Except that damned piano that glinted red and sinister in artifical lighting.

_A simple piano, my favourite thing on this fucking planet decided my fate for me…_

The violent man grabbed for the knife he kept hidden in his pocket, "You fucking wench, you can't do anything right! You're obviously not as smart as her, do you not value your life? You incompetent waste of her time! You don't deserve these fingers, this skill, you don't deserve _anything _except for what I'm going to do to you!"

The green eyes were now not softened with despair, but on fire like bubbling acid with the need to survive. She screamed with that pretty voice of hers. A moment ago it was humming like twinkling bells…Now shrieking rough and intrusive, piercing the predator's ears. She clung to his arm with her free hand trying to stop the knife from meeting her skilled and refined fingers. Her heart stuttered, once again, she couldn't _breathe. _There was no room for air when her entire _being _was consumed with fear…

And then, just when the screams reached their peak, metal met flesh and her voice _cracked._

Blood started off like a gentle trickle, a steady stream betraying the fact that the cause was much rougher than damage let on. Clarice's voice shook with sobs that pained her entire body. And suddenly, her entire hand was deprived of it's five most useful appendages. Blood now was more like a fountain that did not seem as if it were going to give up anytime soon. A broken dam, the fingers and flesh had kept it circulating properly and now were gone the leaving mayhem of a river flowing crimson to the ground.

And the man was laughing, his voice a nightmare in comparison to the tinkling screams of his victim. Jagged and sharp, the blade ranked across flesh and bone, peeling and skimming, rendering the beautiful, long fingers utterly _useless. _The skill that was once praised by mothers and fathers, teachers and friends, lovers and siblings…Meant nothing.

For it did not exist anymore.

"Do you know who I am?" The man asked once the girl's voice was so raw it hurt twice as much as prior to scream. Only one hand had been mutilated, the other still caught in the pressing grip of the man's gruff hand. It was strong, calloused, hot against her delicate, olive toned hand. He dropped the knife to his side and grabbed her by the nape of her neck, pulling her up and slamming her back onto the piano. "Answer me you useless pile of shit!"

"N-No, y-you never said!"

Another maniacal laugh bubbled from the deepest trenches of hell and out those bowstring lips that would have been handsome if they weren't turned in such a deliriously insidious smirk, "William Nell, your tormentor, your personal nightmare, your _demise."_

He took the knife again and hacked off her silken blonde locks, letting them drift to the ground and splay about like tresses of gold that deserved a much more pristine funeral. The spindles of gold did not deserve to be hacked away like a common weed in a garden.

Then, with a broken look, Clarice's knee slammed into the groin of William Nell. His cinnamon eyes widened in shock, his bushy brows arched to his hairline, his hand released her for a fleeted second.

That second was all she needed.

Clarice bolted.

Her legs had never carried her dainty form so fast in her life. She had been no athlete, in highschool she mocked the runners and track stars with her friends as they sipped frappuchinos in the sun. Her eyes had been narrowed with spite and glee as they would wave their frilly drinks in the air and taunt the runners.

No, Clairce was no runner, she was a pianist. Pianists had no need for such a skill.

But, with the looks of things, Clarice decided she could be a runner for now…For, without those fingers, she could never be the famous pianist she was. But, karma had an odd way of dealing payback that sometimes left no one laughing. No one except the maniacs that is. And oh did William Nell laugh and sputter as he gripped his victim once more.

"See, see! You deserve this, I've caught you! _She'd _be so proud of me! You were never her most prized student anyhow, she cared little for the talent everyone thought you had Clarice." Then it was chaos. The room was dominated by red so bright it was akin to that of garnet stone, of crimson polish, of finely aged wine. There weren't splashes of the blood everywhere, no, places were _drenched _with it.

The ivory of the piano's keys did not glint white anymore, they now dripped with the crimson of the lost. Clarice's voice wasn't beautiful anymore. It stilted by the gurgling screams she could free while her own fingers were shoved down her throat.

In her last moments, Clarice had realized singing and playing the piano would be quite difficult with her fingers in her esophagous.

* * *

It had been precisely four days after finding the first body did the Claussen Detective's Agency find Clarice.

Four days and Jack and Pitch had been stumped over files and computers, looking at all the details, chatting with the eccentric Anthropologist with glinting purple eyes and the many theories and predictions crafted by Jamie. The first victim, they had learned, was a twenty-three year old named Rosie Pallow. She had been a wondrous pianist, attending _Nell's School for the Musically Gifted. _

Rosie had been considerably a protigee in the field of the piano, terrible at math, decent at science. She had hated history, that much her parents had told Pitch and Jack when they had arrived to discuss the matters of their dead daughter.

However, the second victim was what they had needed to piece a few things together.

Rosie Pallow had given them basics, assumptions, _theories; _But, one couldn't just go searching homes and questioning neighbors on the whim of one death. She hadn't given them enough, no signs of why she had been killed, especially in the _choking _fashion with the fingers crammed down her throat unceremoniously.

No, the duo needed more.

When the body of Clarice Gall was found, Pitch knew the case was in the bag. Though, Jack wasn't so sure.

Said Frost boy sat in a booth at a local diner, ten in the morning, looking deeply into the golden eyes of his partner. He held a drinks menu up flamboyantly twisting it, like a playing card between his index and middle finger, sighing with a touch of frustration.

"I don't get it," Jack grumbled, sifting through several papers that laid nicely about the table. Photos of Rosie Pallow and Clarice Gall with their crime scenes with little foot notes decored the bottom of the pages that he had been studying so ferociously.

"I don't get it either," Pitch offered, sipping his coffee.

"As terrible as it sounds, we need another victim to help us figure out a pattern. All killers have a pattern, even the ones that are simply bat-shit crazy. Third time's a charm, you know?" The junior detective tapped his blunt nail on the table.

"Too much sugar," Pitch continued, shaking his head. He proceeded to mumble something like, 'Yet, you have teeth like that?' followed by a, 'Bet he's never had a cavity.'

Jack coked a white brow, noticing Pitch's stare wasn't focused on the papers or even his ice-blue eyes, instead it was resting on Jack's choice of a morning beverage to start off the day.

-A triple scoop (chocolate, peanut butter, and pistachio specifically) ice cream shake topped with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, pistachio flecks embedded in the airy cream topping. A spoon was tucked (more like disappearing) in the whipped cream and a bendy, white and red straw, extended from the abyss of the sugary-sweet concoction. Jack set the drinks menu down and pulled the glass cup towards him, the white of the whipped cream almost matching the sheer white-ness of Jack's own hair. He sipped the milkshake (Well, Pitch would like to call it_ Diabetes in a Cup with Extra Toothaches_), then decided to gulp it, pulling away with a satisfied sigh and smirk.

Frost's grin turned into a laugh as he saw the look of utter disgust on Pitch's face.

"Unlike the 45% of most Americans that drink highly caffeinated coffee every day, I like to begin with a simple milkshake." The darker detective visably shuddered and Jack continued, "It could be worse, I could be drinking vodka and orange juice."

"You mean a screwdriver?"

"Of course you'd know what it's called." Jack may have had a memory that some would die for, an intellect beyond that, but, he wasn't exactly experienced in the field of _adult _things. Or, more specifically, things some would consider crude or useless. Drinking, at the top of that list, was something Jack Frost was unfamiliar with. Drugs, another thing to stack on that list, and finally, anything regarding sexual advances. Sure, he'd had his serve of dates and kisses, flirting and joking, but nothing beyond that. Nothing in the field of intimate touching, nothing under the label of intimate moments, nothing of, well…True intimacy.

That was one of the first things Pitch had learned about Jack by accident. He was intelligent, but, inexperienced in many things. He found it quite funny actually and a beautiful idea for blackmail should he need it.

"Of course _you _wouldn't." The senior detective jabbed back.

Jack rolled his eyes and took another heavy gulp of the creamy drink and it was like a light switch being flickered, Pitch's attention returned to the case and his eyes showed it. They were determined, now a solidified golden heat that held up the two images of Rosie and Clarice. When Jack had rolled his eyes, Pitch had picked up the veil of doubt in the ice-blue orbs.

Doubt could not be tolerated in this line of work.

"Don't be so worried, alright?-I don't think we're going to need another victim, I won't _allow _there to be another victim. See them?-Both the same age, save for a few months, and their looks are practically identical. _Obviously," _Detective Black drawled, "He goes after young blondes with pixie features, then hacks off their hair. I'd say that's a sure sign he wants them to represent or _appear _like a woman he had in his life."

Jack nodded, "I understand that much, you're quoting what Jamie said so don't look so proud of yourself…But, I can't help but be nervous, its my first case here, alright?"

"Look here _Frost_, I have _no _time for sissies, no time for people who doubt themselves, and no time for people who do things precisely by the book. I'm here to avenge people and save those who haven't met demise. You did well the other day with that assumption of Rosie's fingers, the only reason why I'm even giving you a chance is you've got _something _that everyone seems to admire. If that isn't enough to get rid of your nerves, perhaps this isn't the agency for you."

Jack Frost blinked once, twice, then his face broke into a large grin that reached ear to ear. He grabbed all the papers and shoved them back in their manila folder-home, swigging his milkshake another time.

"You're right…You're right. I'm here for all of that too…And to learn. I'm not going to disappoint you Pitch. I swear it. Now finish off your stupid coffee, we're supposed to be at the Gall's place in less than fifteen minutes to have a little chat about their daughter."

That was the first time Pitch actually caught himself admiring the smile that decked the boy's face.

And it certainly would not be the last.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I kind'a lied. We didn't **_**really **_**find out why he kills them like that…But, I sort'a implied why and tried to explain it through William's actions. –shrugs- However, for **_**sure **_**the next chapter (Jimmy's New Hero) will be displaying one of our detectives piecing the reason together in a more blunt way just in case you didn't quite catch it from the scene in the first chunk and also a really endearing scene between Jack and Clarice's younger brother. Action for our detectives will be heating up now…Also, sorry if this chapter seemed a bit rushed at the end, I am at my family's on vacation…and I was writing this at 3-4AM, not exactly functioning correctly ha.**


	4. Chapter 4- Jimmy's New Hero

**A/N: Thank you for all your comments, follows, reads, etc! They mean a lot and I apologize for not replying to them all immediately, I just returned from vacation so I'll get to those soon.**

**Warnings: ****Nothing really accept for some sad parents and children, I suppose.**

* * *

_I met a stranger who bore an umbrella_

_It shielded him from the rain_

_But when the sun came out_

_He was confused_

_For it shaded him from that too._

* * *

It was almost painful to look at the Gall's home.

As the detective duo neared the end of the coldasack, seeing the all American-looking house, Jack felt a twinge of something stutter in his heart.

"Stereotypical, isn't it?" Pitch asked casually, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.

Jack nodded, what was it about this house that bothered him? When he was in University, he had been one of the many students who could push all emotion away during files and lectures. That was a large part of the curriculum-Shocking the students into understanding that _yes this sort of thing happens to real people, everyday. _And other professors would say, _this is not your favourite TV show, it's going to get personal, it's going to be real, and guts aren't just some façade in horror movies. _

One of Jack's least favourite professors had actually given him some wisdom in his first year, "_Everyone, take Stalin's infamous quote to mind 'When one dies, it's a tragedy. When a million die, it's a statistic.' It's easier to listen to the deaths on the news because they aren't personable, when on the job and visiting the families, just keep in mind…Eventually, for you, it'll become another case to add to record as opposed to another family to tell bad news."_

Despite the Frost agent's absolute loath for that logic…He had taken it to heart. What else could he do? He surely would not become attached to those he helped, if he did, he may shatter inside himself. Especially with the childhood Jack bore, these cases and deaths were all too real. Nevertheless, he was here to help, not feel self-pity, and he took a shaky breath as Pitch parked the car.

"You alright Frost?" The darker male asked. Jack almost felt bitter, wondering why Pitch felt the need to talk so much today.

Instead, he pushed that feeling down and forced a beaming smile, "Yeah, guess the milkshake's just giving me nausea or something."

Detective Black bought the lie as he rang the doorbell to the Gall's, "If you would've drank coffee like a _normal _person, I assure you, you'd be fine. Next time I'm not letting you get that concoction."

This time Jack really did grin a bit, "My ice cream and I will fight you and your coffee to the end. I'll just have to skip the Peanut butter scoop next time."

Before Pitch could retaliate, the large front door swung open. A woman with eyes as dark as charcoal and hair as blonde as starlight stood in a polka dot dress. A man popped up behind her, his eyes resembling the same emeralds his daughter had possessed. There was no doubt in either detective's mind that these were definitely the parents…Especially by the looks of their bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks.

Jack internally cringed, _So far, still so normal…All American family if you ask me._

"If you're one of those religious folk trying' to get my husband and I to find God let me tell you-"

Pitch flashed his badge and held his other hand up to silence the blonde woman, "Mr. and Mrs. Gall, I'm Supervisory Special Agent Black and this is my partner, Agent Frost. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter."

The eyes that looked more like dark holes nodded and fell over herself in apologies, "Oh my, I'm so sorry! It's just my husband and I have been through so much these past few days and people simply won't leave us be-" She gestured them in and the husband led them to a seating room near the kitchen, "Is there any new news on the bastard that-"

Mr. Gall's deep voice intervened, "_Victoria!"_

She rolled her eyes as the four of them sat on dark brown leather couches. "Excuse my language, the _beast _that did this to our darling Clarice?"

Pitch leaned back on the couch and Jack sat uncomfortably stiff, eyeing the surroundings as his partner spoke, "That's precisely why we're here today. Our team has conjured a few leads that have all been dead ends, so, we were curious as to if Clarice had any sort of stalkers, odd relationships, perhaps hobbies that required one-on-one visits?"

"Anything that required Clarice's time alone," Jack insisted, his voice holding a monotone hue to it. Pitch glanced over at him and bunched his eyebrows in confusion, wondering why his junior agent looked so troubled.

"Clarice is…_was_," The wife choked up a bit before recovering enough to continue, "Doing her General Education in college so she wasn't exactly home often. But, she wasn't in a relationship…Never mentioned anyone, she hung out with friends often…But, so does every young girl her age, right?"

"Ah, wait," Mr. Gall stood from his seat and gestured for Jack and Pitch to follow. The four entered a large room with lavish curtains and a homely carpet. It was practically empty. Just as Pitch was going to mention this, the man pointed to a corner of the room by the window with the sheer curtains. Sitting proud and gleaming was a Grand Piano, its ivory keys catching the light.

"She played the piano?" Jack questioned, his fingers running across the smooth top of the instrument.

The couple nodded with tears in their eyes, "Our little Clarice was practically a protégée! Like her hands were meant for the piano only. She could play anything!"

"Did she have a mentor that would come over…Or one she'd visit?" Pitch's voice was cool as things began to click in place.

"She went to _Nell's School for the Musically Gifted_ a few times a week since she was around five or six. It's a small place really, only four or five teachers and the head principal. But, she stopped going about a year ago." Mrs. Gall relayed, remembering the place well. A distant look was present in her tear-suppressing eyes.

It was Jack's turn to cock a brow. That wasn't a coincidence. It simply could not be. That Rosie and Clarice attended the same school, most likely the same teacher. A hypothesis was forming in the snow-haired boy's mind, a concept he knew had to be true. _Perhaps…_"Why'd she stop going? Investing all that time and energy at one place, why would you pull her out?"

The husband ran a hand tiredly through his hair, leaning on the wall with his green eyes closed. His face was etched with something beyond exhaustion and worry, a façade of a living nightmare and a parent's worst fear. "Her teacher had divorced her husband, the principal, and he soon after had the entire place closed down. Probably was too painful for him with the memories of his wife in those halls. There's a picture over here of Clarice, the wife, and the principal together after one of her recitals."

Sure enough, a red framed photograph sat atop the small table adjacent the piano. Jack hunched over to have a better look, a glare from the sun catching the glass. Pitch strode behind the Frost boy, positioning himself where his head was over Jack's shoulder and next to the boy's face. Jack swallowed at the close proximity but otherwise kept himself focused on the important photo. The teacher, Mrs. Nell, looked strikingly similar to Clarice. Tall, thin, shimmering eyes that were only a hue brighter than the student's was. Her lips pulled in a tight smile that gave hints of her adult hood, perhaps even struggles in her life, and she dawned a beautiful blue dress. The only real difference between the two women was their hair lengths. Clarice's was long and pin straight, Mrs. Nell had shortly cropped hair…Similar to the botched style the two girl's corpses bore.

Crystal blue eyes met golden ones in a click of realization; Pitch's narrowing ever so slightly. When their eyes met, the young adult catching how close they were again, his breath hitched. _His eyes are so bright…But they're still so calculating…They're really nice._

"Thank you for your time, my partner and I will be taking our leave now. We believe we have the information necessary to conceive a logical lead." Pitch straightened up and Jack was able to breathe again, also stiffening his posture.

The mother's charcoal eyes were swimming in tears now, a few leaking down her pale cheeks, "You don't think it was someone at the…the school, do you?"

"We can't be certain, though it is a high possibility." Jack replied, his voice still monotonous. It caught the senior detective's attention again and he made a mental note to ask Jack about it on the car ride back to the agency.

A wracking sob escaped Victoria Gall's mouth, her arms crossed over her body. Her thin frame shook terribly as tears broke from their confines and dropped onto the floor. Mr. Gall hugged his wife and she buried her face in his shoulder, makeup surely staining his yellow polo. He nodded with his head at the door for the detectives to take their leave, that he would handle it all from here. The duo simply said their goodbyes and left the broken couple, returning to the sunny and ironically bright day.

However, it seemed their talk with the Gall's wasn't over because a small voice piped up from behind the two.

"You made mommy and daddy cry."

Jack was the first to turn around and meet twin obsidian eyes, their scrutiny innocent, yet daring. Blonde hair stuck up in the most disorganized manner. He was a short child, probably the height of a three year old, though his expression and words said he was probably older by a year or two.

The Frost detective immediately crouched down to the child's level so he could properly look him in the eyes. However, he could not formulate a proper sentence and met those innocently heart wrenching words with silence.-It overwhelmed the three people.

The small voice dared again, "Are you the mean people who took big sissy away? Is that why they're crying…" He added with a whisper, "_Again?_"

Jack shook his head, "No, we aren't those people, we're the one's who're going to find those bad guys though."

"You're gonna find sissy and bring her home?" Those impossibly dark eyes seemed to brighten with the misconception.

Jack's heart tore a little.

He enjoyed children, he was great with children, he found their akin to fun without adhering danger entertaining. But, sad children? Broken children? That simply ripped his heart in two and threw it in an alley to be devoured by rats. Kid's showed their emotions mostly through their posture and expressions, unlike adults, it was easy to recognize their disease, anger, or joy.

"We're going to find the people who did that to your big sister," He repeated, "So your sister can be free and happy, okay? What's your name kid?"

"Jimmy." The boy replied proudly, "With two M's and a Y."

"Well guess what Jimmy, this guy and I," He pointed up at Pitch and then hooked his thumb at himself, "Help princesses and princes. Your sister was a princess, wasn't she?" Jack did his best to keep the complete depression out of his voice and face.

Obsidian met ice for a fleeting moment before Jimmy's face cracked into a smile, a positive morph from the confusion it was a moment ago.

He was so young.

He was so small.

This child, he was unfortunate.

Innocence always killed the naïve.

"Yeah, mommy and daddy always called her that. I'm the tough guy in the family though," Jimmy beamed and even Pitch felt a twinge of sadness at this conversation.

Frost swallowed thickly and nodded his head confidently, "Well, we're tough guys too and we're going to help your sister. She's happier where she is now, and we'll tell her you say hello, 'kay?"

Jack soon found a pair of small, thin arms wrapped around his arms and torso, not even reaching together on his back. He stiffened for a mere second before returning the embrace. The child pulled back and his smile shone brighter than the day itself did.

"Thanks misters, but I gots one more question."

"And what's that?" Jack wasn't sure if he could handle another moment of speaking to the kid like this.

"What're your names?"

"I'm Jack and the tall guy's Pitch," Frost wanted to leave already, the melancholy was choking him.

Jimmy ran back to the doorway and turned before closing it, his hand striving for the knob while he balanced on his tiptoes, "Jack and Pitch…You guys are my new heroes!"

The door closed with a slight _slam _and Jack stood stiffly. His eyes were directed at the ground as he headed to Pitch's car.

"You alright there, Frost?" Pitch asked for the second time that day, truly curious.

"I will be."

They both swung open the car doors and hopped inside, buckling their belts swiftly. "We have new information, we'll catch this guy. But, you seemed awful tense in there. I thought for a moment, perhaps, that you knew them from somewhere."

"No, I didn't," Jack began, "The whole thing just reminded me a lot of my childhood. Due to my father…I was always being questioned, always being made to recall the past. It really sucked. And then Jimmy…Kid's shouldn't have heroes, they really shouldn't."

Gold solidified into something hard, a foreign emotion stirring in Pitch as he listened to the unusually lamentable tone of Jack's voice. "Why do you say that?"

"Because heroes always become what they fight in the end, they eventually let their fans down."

* * *

Jamie Bennett was hunched over a keyboard, the main computer highlighting his features with it's light. It whirred to life as he clicked in the new information, searching and nodding as he found adequate information to present to his coworkers.

"So I found an interesting connection that related Clarice and Rosie, I've compiled a small list-"The brunette had begun speaking as soon as the detectives had entered the office. However, Pitch held one hand up and Jamie squeaked, immediately silent.

"Erase that entire list. We need you to pull up the principal of _Nell's School for the Musically Gifted_ and his wife."

Jamie made a small jog over and performed the task on the desktop. "His name's William Nell. Tall, sort'a handsome, dark hair. He's a pretty guy-ish looking guy, sort'a gruffy if you ask me," Jamie minimized that screen and pulled up the wife, "Jenny Nell-"

"We don't need appearance, we need background for her," Jack informed.

"She divorced William a year ago on the twenty seventh…She moved out of country six months later, she taught a class specifically for singing and piano playing…William Nell has a record of taking several different types of psychological medications in the past."

"Pull up her students, images and bios." The darker man demanded with his arms crossed over his chest.

The clacking of keys echoed about the room as the others stood in silence, waiting.

"She taught a small class of twenty students. I can read you their names-"

Jack swatted Jamie's hands away and narrowed the list down by having it search for the ones with blonde hair and green eyes only. It took less than a minute for the little square boxes to appear on the screen. Sure enough, there were only four students, two of which were Rosie and Clarice. They all were equally stunning and terribly similar looking.

"These are his next victims; the murderer has to be William." Jack declared, gesturing for the profiler and his senior detective to take a gander.

"But how do you know who'll be next?" Pitch questioned aloud, his voice carrying a pondering hue. His amber eyes flickered like two suns between the images.

Jack tapped a finger on his chin as he stared between the two women, their faces displayed in between the previous victims. There was nothing to indicate which would be chosen. They appeared as normal women, though in a few hours…They'd appear as abnormal corpses if they weren't quick enough.

"Ah, let me try something!" Jamie took over the computer again and his fingers flew by quick as lightning hitting the keys without fault. "It'll be her, Rachelle…Fast-oh-vike?"

"_Fasjovik_,"Jack corrected easily, "It's Swedish," He shrugged when both men stared at him as if he bore two heads.

"_Anyway, _before I was interrupted by smart ass here, I was saying that it'll be her. When you guys came in here and _rudely _interrupted me, I was _trying _to tell you that the day Clarice was murdered, she had been returning home late from a public performance where she had been playing and accompany singing for a popular set of artists. The same scenario was set up with Rosie too."

"So you checked which one had a booked performance coming up this month?" Pitch sounded thoroughly impressed with Jamie's thinking.

"Not for this month," Jamie sounded smug, "But for _tomorrow. _Rachelle will be playing at Boardwalk Amusement Park for some pop singers. He'll probably snag her there, especially considering the parking lots large…No one'd notice if she played and _then _was taken, right? Also, Toothiana and I were chatting about the way he killed his victims and those scratched photographs. We think the killer found that his little victims weren't perfect enough to match who he took them to impersonate as. Such as their voice, often pianists can sing and play. So, if Clarice and Rosie were supposed to sound a specific way and they _didn't, _he 'punished' them" Jamie formed air quotes as he said the word, "By making it impossible for them to use either of their skills."

"Brilliant," Pitch said, genuinely pleased with Jamie's hard work. The profiler grinned happily, his hands clasped behind his back like a proud child being praised for good grades.

Jack allowed a grin to slowly grow upon his features as well, his perfect teeth being revealed in the process. It was wrong to be so excited about such terrible confirmations; however, this answered one of the many questions he had about this case. He resembled a child, prepared to take his training wheels off and ram his bike headfirst into the nearest pole on a street. "Looks like we're going to the amusement park tomorrow, Pitch!"

The adult held a hand to his forehead with his voice grumbling, "I'm going to need a cigarette to handle this."

"It'll be like a _date _Pitchy-kins!" Jack batted his eyelashes at the older man.

"Aw, how _romantic_," Jamie feigned a love stricken expression and swooned for his friends. Jack nearly doubled over in laughter, his head thrown back as he couldn't contain it.

"Make that an entire _pack _of cigarettes…" Agent Black concluded, already fumbling with his pockets for one.

Jack and Jamie simply laughed for far too long, calling Pitch all sorts of ridiculous pet names until he marched off outside to have a light. Tomorrow was going to be _quite _the exhausting day.

Perhaps he could buy out an entire gas station of their Marlboros?

* * *

**A/N: Now that I have better answered as to why their fingers were in their esophagus', I feel much more accomplished, heh. I actually liked the way this chapter came about more than the previous one :D In our next chapter, _Sharing is Caring_, Pitch and Jack do actually turn tomorrow into a sort'a date! I'm really excited to write that..Mostly because that means we're getting closer to having some actual BlackIce…And catching this bastard, well, **_**if **_**they do.**


	5. Chapter 5- Sharing is Caring

**A/N**: Sorry for such a late posting! After writing that oneshot with Jack seducing *cough*hardcore fucking*coughcough* Priest!Pitch Black…I ended up going on another surprise vacation and its just been awesomely hectic, haha. Anyways, heres the next chapter. Do enjoy, hopefully it turned out at least decent with the lack of sleep I have in my system writing this and I think I'm even rambling. Oh! and I tried a Mrs Field's cookie for the first time today and it was good but I'm more of a salt person than sweet, would have preferred a pretzel or seasalt gelato but I'm not complaining I'm going to stop typing now because this is all very unimportant to the story.

* * *

_Can it be your fear to die_

_That entraps you to always lie_

_Perhaps it is the voices in your head_

_That dig your grave and claim you dead._

_Or is it your fear of being last_

_That makes your stories twist so fast?_

_Some words you say can be true,_

_Yet, how often is the sky truly blue?_

* * *

Jack's eyes were brighter than Pitch had ever seen them; and that was saying a lot considering they usually were almost luminescent on a daily basis.

Today, they practically sparkled as the twin orbs of ice stared at the array of bright colours and huge mechanical rides surrounding the duo. Jack had tilted his head far up to glance at the top of one of the larger roller coasters, something akin to excitement veiling his eyes. The contraptions were just so _many _feet above his head and sure Jack knew he was short, but, the way the loops seemed to just jut into the sky and carve the blue with the train of seats blasting into the sky and speeding down to earth from the peak of mountainous tops of metal and wooden planks…It was just so _awesome_. The junior agent was simply beaming and basking in the whole of it all.

Pitch pulled out a map of the park and began marking areas where they needed to search for William Nell, ignoring the childish excitement Jack was exerting. His sharpie drew a large circle over where the performance was going to take place with a diagonal '_6 PM Sharp!' _scribbled next to it as a reminder. To be brutally honest, the senior agent had never been a fan of amusement parks. It wasn't the overwhelming smell of sugary sweet foods that nauseated him to no end, nor was it the pesky men that asked him and Jack about a thousand times to take a picture for their websites the first five minutes they had entered-When it came down to it, Pitch simply _hated _the loud noises.

The sounds scraped his ears and made him grit his teeth especially when he heard the scream of a child being indecisive, the scolding of an adult as their kid asked for another toy, even the small _creak, creak, creak _of the rides drove him mad to no end. He had tried in _vain _to have North assign them to simply come for the performance _only_ and find William, but, the man was set on them trying to capture him throughout the day. The amusement park managers had insisted that there be no major scene. So, it simply seemed logical to North that Jack and Pitch act as guests and enjoy their time…While ensuring the arrest of the killer.

_That man and his sense of 'enjoyment'…_

"Wow…" Jack's voice sounded awestruck and he peered over Pitch's shoulder to look at all the rides and checkpoints they needed to stop at.

Agent Black rolled his eyes, "What are you gawking at? I doubt it's my fantastic penmanship."

Jack's eyes widened, "Are you even looking around? This place is so amazing! Look at all the colours…And all the people, and everyone's laughing. And look at those things-" The boy pointed upward and golden eyes followed- "They're _so _tall and _loud, _its awesome!"

Pitch shook his head, "Its just like any other amusement park."

The glimmer in Jack's cerulean hues dimmed just a touch; but it was still noted. "I guess it is," The young adult laughed, a shaky sound, "But the mechanics on these things are so intricate, it's great! We have to go on _all _of them. I read a book on the mechanics and the breakdown of roller coasters when I was in the fifth grade…Did you know original roller coasters were assumedly large Russian ice mountains of, like, 80 feet and kids would slide down them? Buuuuuut, the first _actual _one that had real mechanics was in 1817 by the French! So, technically, it started all in Europe…And look how far they've come."

"Are you always a walking encyclopedia?"

"Have been since I was seven, actually. Though credit is to my eidetic memory as opposed to any real studying," Jack pointed to the center ride that was several stories high. Pitch and him watched a group of twenty people rise up until they appeared like specks, and drop directly down with their hair whipping above them feriously. Their screams reached the detectives even from their distance. "But I'm definitely not going on that thing."

Pitch raised a brow, "Afraid of heights are you?-And here I was beginning to believe your book smarts forgot to teach you to be afraid on occasion."

"Afraid of heights?" Jack sputtered a laugh, "There's only one thing I fear and it certainly isn't something as common as _heights."_

Agent Black let out a small grunt and continued his work with the map, "Then what's the problem with it?-The ride's pointless, bright, and loud as hell; so, directly up your alley."

Jack rolled his eyes as he began following Pitch further into the park, "You are just full of compliments today, aren't you? Especially on our date _Pitchy-kins _you're really wooing me here_," _Pitch's eyes narrowed with a flare of annoyance but Jack skipped over it, "-It's the fact that that ride's construction requires that when the people are a second away from crashing into the ground, magnets are used to halt it. If those magnets fizz out or aren't strong enough due to some sort of damage, those people are going to get a jolt through their system strong enough to shatter their bones."

"I don't really know why you're worried about any of these rides. We're here on a mission in case you've forgotten. We won't be riding _anything_."

Jack crossed his arms, "You don't think William would be trying to blend in, perhaps stalking Rachelle by going on all the same rides as her?"

Pitch thought about that for a moment, "Then we should scope the lines, no need to ride anything. We'll be able to hop from line to line faster with that method."

"But _Pitch!" _Jack whined, "What's the point of even watching the lines if we aren't in them? If we're up close, near him even, we can hear or watch him and keep an eye. Stalk the stalker, you know? And we can't just walk through the whole line going, 'Oh yeah, excuse us miss, just looking for a criminal, actually he's a murderer to be precise…Oh he isn't here, pardon us again, we need to exit and try another line!'-It'd be ridiculous!"

"You need to work on your eloquence," The darker male ran a hand through his hair, sighing in the process. "I think this entire plan is simply deplorable on Nicholas's part. We should have arrested the guy hours ago, had the park on lockdown."

"What else was North going to do? The park wouldn't let him and he couldn't get the warrant. I honestly think we need to blend in too, if William is going to be following her around, he'll be extremely on edge. We need to play the part exceptionally and act as if we are here for the same reason as everyone else.- To go on rides and stuff. Then we can follow him around and probably snag on Rachelle as well."

"I _really _didn't want it to come down to this." The senior agent grumbled, "But, I suppose you're correct. Catching William Nell is our first priority…If it requires playing a part, I find it worth it." Jack's lips curled into a victorious smile, "Oh don't be so smug with yourself," Jack's smile grew even more, "Oh, and Frost, if you vomit on me here I swear-"

"Oh chill it," The Frost boy snagged the map from Pitch's fingers, "If I do end up vomiting, it will definitely be on you for assuming as such so don't waste your breath on threats.-Oh!" His pale finger pointed to the farthest ride in the back, "We should go on this one first!" Then he pointed to an upside down water coaster near it, "Then this one!" Jack's eyes were gleaming with that sense of awe again, "And this one, and that one, oooh, and the spinning ride…Will you do this water one? There's fire in this one! You don't have heart problems right, your attitude sucks but not to an extent of issues…So we can go on that one too."

Pitch grabbed the paper back and folded it to stick in his pocket, grabbing Jack by the sleeve of his blue sweatshirt, "We'll start off with that first one. And I certainly will not go on water rides."

Jack Frost pouted but was otherwise satisfied. Him and Pitch began their trek to the back of the park, children running through and past them with huge teddy bears. Jack's eyes were once again glued to the surroundings and Pitch's to the map. Cobalt scanned the mass of colours that blurred as their steps were brisk and gold sketched a plan in mind.

Then, something clicked for Pitch. He had been contemplative since their arrival about why his partner was so immersed in the settings. It was like any other amusement park, full of loud sounds and colours, candies and pastries, children and adults. There was no difference, so why did someone as intelligent as Jack give it such a complimentary stare?

"Frost…Have you ever been to a park like this?"

The junior detective snapped his attention away from the coaster that just whizzed by them, swishing his hair. "Not exactly," He replied slowly as the two of them shuffled closer to the front of the line to a ride labeled '_The Red Cobra'. _

"I assume that's due to some sort of financial issue or-"

Jack interrupted him, "It was never a financial issue. I didn't have much of a childhood as I'm sure you're aware. Besides, there were occasions where my…Father would…Uhm, take away my ability to access anything outside so he could…Well, it doesn't really matter. He wasn't as diligent on patrolling me as he was my younger sister or my mom-Hey is that a funnel cake stand?" The conversation was quickly flipped over as Jack's rambling twisted and turned for Pitch to follow, "I've never had one of those, can we get one? I'll share it. Sharing is caring after all, right? Besides, I've heard that everyone likes them and-"

Golden hues widened in something akin to surprise, only to narrow a moment later as he caught up with Jack's fast talking. Pitch felt anger unknown bubble inside his heart and fuel his thoughts, though he also felt a bitterness towards himself. There was a sort of guilt unfamiliar making itself known for indirectly having Jack admit a piece of his brutal childhood with his father. _How could I have forgotten that detail?_

"I'll go get you a funnel cake, just stay in line, alright?-Also, stop your rambling," Pitch grumbled as he began exiting through people. "Also, I didn't mean to bring up your past, so I apologize."

"No its fine," The young adult raised his hands nonchalantly, "It's the past. Besides, I'm sure that's the precise reason why North actually signed up the case like this because he knew I'd never been here. Beneath all those Christmas similes and candy cane wrappers…He's a sneaky guy."

And just like that, the snowy adult was back to his regular self. Pitch simply didn't understand it, tried to, but gave up. He wanted to ask more questions, wanted to know more. But, how did one ask questions like that?-They didn't.

That was the answer, but the senior agent did not want to accept that.

"Wait no, let's have the funnel cake _after _the ride, we're almost next in line."

The conversation was steered clear of anything pertaining to both of their pasts' for the rest of the wait. Jack idly gave other random facts about the ride and how it worked, why certain speeds were gauged and others not. By the end of his recital of that blasted book from his childhood, he had the surrounding people listening to him in awe as well as some exiting from fear of actually understand the way these coasters worked. Before long, they were at the front of the line and Jack's buzzing was lit anew with the jitters of this being his first ride.

Pitch strapped himself in and put his hands behind his head, completely unfazed by it all. His legs felt cramped in the small space given in front of him and he had to curl them up a bit more than Jack did. They were situated in the second car from the front. The line of people behind them appeared to be college or high school students, in front a duo of children no older than seven.

One of the workers gave the smaller kids a pitied look before unbuckling them with a, "Sorry guys, you're both too short to ride this without an adult."

A child with messy red locks and brown eyes stepped out quietly, accepting the fact that they had no chance, but his friend was far more upset.

"You can't do that!" His blue eyes glared at the woman who was still messing with his seatbelt to dislodge him, "Me and Fred have been waiting in line for, like, a gillion hours! His mom wouldn't come with us, this isn't fair!"

The manager stood straight once the belt was unhooked and gave him an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, but you're both not of height to ride this together…You need to ride with-"

"We'll do it!"

The two boys as well as the woman and a stunned _Pitch _all stared at Jack.

Pitch punched Jack's shoulder, "Are you serious? I am _not-"_

"Really?" Came Fred's voice, his smile bright despite his front two teeth missing.

"Yeah, of course, here…I'll get in the front one. You just stay there kid, and you can have my seat with this guy, he's kind of scary, doesn't bite."

Pitch tried to grab for Jack's arm but missed. He hissed when the Frost agent was still in earshot, "Goddamnit Frost…This is not-"

Jack rebuckled himself in the new seat, eventually leaning back comfortably and turning around to give Pitch an unabashed smirk. Before the golden daggered stare could stab him with its glowing ferocity, Jack turned back around and whispered to the kid in a loud enough voice to carry behind him, "Alright kid, listen up, we're going to make this the_ best_ ride of you and your buddy's life. I've never been on a coaster before…But, check this out, we're going to _scream _at the top of our lungs once we hit the top, 'kay?"

The blonde child nodded his head vigorously, devilment present in his grin, "Alright mister, let's do this."

Jack gave the kid a high five and laughed when he caught the look of pure _confusion _Pitch was wearing as he tried to keep up with the red-headed child seated next to him.

_I wonder if he'll still buy me that funnel cake after this..._

* * *

William Nell was dressed casual. A pair of shades blocking the sun with their dimmed might from afflicting his eyes as he searched the crowd. He stood in line for a funnel cake near the head of the line to the popular '_Red Cobra' _ride. His eyes danced over many backs and heads, lingering for a split second on white tendrils and a darker, looming form.

_They certainly stand out, _The murderer thought before shrugging them off and continuing to find his only real purpose for even being there. He knew this would be hard, finding Rachelle, a pretty blonde in an amusement park?-There were blondes everywhere, chatting, eating, boarding rides. But they weren't _the _blonde, and William knew once he found Rachelle, it'd all be too easy.

Once more, he scanned the thick crowd, shuffling forward to purchase a funnel cake. For the first hour in the park, it had been easy to keep tabs on her. She was in a dull orange shirt and white shorts, her golden locks tied back and revealing a tattoo of a music note on her left shoulder. William had almost found it ironic that she bore one of those, signaling to everyone her love for music and all that crap.

Signaling love to the true blue thing that had _destroyed _his life and marriage.

The thing that had caused his wife to leave him, because they weren't successful enough together…She had to move on, had to find someone else, had to make more money, couldn't be happy with making music at midnight with William. All those memories, they avalanched and William leaned against a pole, ensuring he was still in line. He puffed out a stressed sigh.

He was overwhelmed with the need to sink the stainless steel tip of a knife into his new victim's skin, to feel it tear through the creaminess of thighs and fingers, to allow the crimson to be free. William could already imagine the crescendos of her voice reaching all new pitches, ones that sang of fear and terror, salty tears bringing bitterness to her lips. He felt another dizzy wave flash over him. It was like a drug, he needed it. For those few moments he'd have Rachelle play his wife's favourite song, he'd pretend he was in the classroom, checking up on his wife's performance. It'd be blissful…Until that one Godforsaken note was out of place and he was _forced _to kill her.

She didn't deserve her talent, skill, prior teachings, or _life _if Rachelle couldn't allow William that one moment of bliss.

"Are you alright, sir?" The voice was timid, shy, soft like cotton to Mr. Nell's ears and he opened his eyes.

"Ah, yes I am. Just a bit dehydrated I believe, this line is so terribly long," William fixed his posture, "Thank you for the concern…Rachelle?" He was testing the name on his tongue as he pretended to read the sticker on her right breast that revealed her name. Above it was written with block letters, '**Hello, my Name is' **followed by a girly font that had sketched out the letters of her name and were led with, '**Be Sure to Check out Tonight's Performance at 6. Hope to See you There!'**

A look of confusion flickered across her green eyes, unsure and wary, almost discomfort. Rachelle's pretty features were etched with unease.

"That's your name isn't it?" William pressed with his eyes still hidden by the shades were revealing something more than crazy, "It says so on your name card."

"Oh, yes! Sorry," She let off a laugh that had all of her nerves exhaling, "You're the fourth person to do that today. I keep forgetting this blasted thing is here!"

"It certainly does well for advertising the show tonight. Are you performing?" He stuck his hands into his pockets, keeping his gaze directed a bit low so Rachelle wouldn't recognize him. He had gone to great lengths in his appearance to ensure none of the former students remember him.

So far it was working.

It had certainly worked before.

"Not exactly, I'll be playing piano accompaniment for some popular artists. It starts around six, my friend's and I have been walking around telling everyone interested all about it."

"Well, you can definitely count on seeing me there."

* * *

_Fifteen to six_.

"Toothiana and Jamie are in traffic." Pitch stated as he slid his phone into his pocket.

Jack took a long drag of his milkshake and nodded, "We should be able to find Nell before they get here."

"I agree. They're just coming as backup to properly take him away. We'll be the one's staying with North to calm the guests and management if things become out of hand."

The junior detective groaned and returned his lips to the straw of his shake, enjoying the thrill of cold slinking down his throat and spreading to his limbs. They had been able to ride a total of seven rides prior to Pitch's insistant nagging of their needing to get to the performance area. It had taken a good ten minutes of their time to get Jack the infernal milkshake, but if it kept him from complaining about hunger, Pitch didn't exactly mind.

_Six o' clock_.

"Oh man," Jack began as his blue orbs scanned the mass of people gathered for the showing, "That's a ton of people."

"I _told _you," The darker male quipped, striding faster into the crowd. Jack hung back a bit, looking for William.

"We have precisely an hour to find this guy," Jack announced, looking down at the panflet.

"The showings are a total of two hours though."

"Yeah, but Rachelle finishes her part after the first hour."

_Six fifteen_.

The music blared loud, Pitch's headache progressively becoming a mindgraine. He squinted his eyes at the pain and grabbed Jack's sleeve, tugging him out of the mash they had somehow become blocked into. Crisp air entered their lungs when they escaped. They ducked under arms and skipped through groups of children to find the killer. Jack's hand fingered the gun in the hem of his pants that he'd been permitted to bring in after North had a long discussion with the park owner. If they couldn't have the police, his men at least needed to be armed.

_Six thirty_.

"Toothiana and Jamie here yet?"

Pitch shook his head, pointing to his ears as notes from various instruments clouded his senses.

Jack tried again, practically yelling, "I said, are Toothiana and Jamie here!?"

Pitch shook his head, "Not yet! They're trying to get past all the people heading here!"

_Six Forty-Five._

Jack locked eyes on a man in sunglasses bearing a hat. He scanned the form, using his memory to pull up an internal image of William in his brain. They matched, precisely. In features and stature, there was no doubt.

William's eyes had been trained on Rachelle but his peripherals were bothered by a striking glimpse of white. He turned to see what the annoyance was and met sharp, ice blue eyes boring into him. They held him in a trance and suddenly the man knew something was wrong when he saw Jack's finger point at him and a darker male running to catch up.

William turned and bolted through the crowd, shoving people in the midst.

Jack took off after him directly, Pitch taking a back way to corner William Nell. He was in their sights and he was now their prey.

* * *

**A/N:** So I intended this chapter to end a different way, however, the words just wouldn't stop and this is how it turned out. I'm still happy with it though, it's longer than my previous ones :D

In the next chapter, _Fractured, _there'll be some more action and more than a few broken things.


	6. Chapter 6- Fractured

**A/N:** Soooooooooooooooo, yeah this is a reeeeeeally late chapter. I kind of lost my muse for this story for a bit, I was simply writing one shots and stuff to get out of the funk. However, obviously I am back and ready to go! I have the next several chapters planned which makes room for the ones after that and I'm _pumped_!

I really hope you all know I appreciate all your comments, follows, favourites, and kudos. Even if I don't get to them immediately. I read and see all of them in my e-mail and they always make me smile. It means a bunch and really helped me get back into the swing of things :)

A good song for this chapter is _Dignity _by _New Politics_ (I actually wrote this while listening to it)

* * *

_William Nell was but a man_

_Who loved his love as as best he could_

_And even though he was every bit a good man_

_She didn't love him as she should._

_He went after women with eyes so green_

_With his heart drenched in despair_

_To give himself justice, he was keen_

_And so he cut off their hair-_

_Feeding them fingers as he felt fair._

* * *

It was odd, the kick Jack got from chasing the criminal.

Or at least the rational portion of Jack's brain told him it was.

His heart thumped in his chest, a million miles per hour and his breathing wasn't ragged in the least. The detective felt alive, dangerous, and _ready_. The way his arms pumped to help him gain speed on the killer, the way his feet were nimble over the pavement, his eyes were narrowed in precision. Everything was honed in one thing, a target...

_William Nell._

The junior detective was unsure of when he had lost the others in this newfound spurt of adrenaline. It just felt _so good_ coursing through his veins, his body alit with something akin to fire but far, far less painful than burning. He deducted that Pitch was probably coursing around a juxtaposing corner anytime now, he had indeed went the opposite direction. As for Toothiana and Jamie...Well, it wasn't as if either of them would be catching this guy anyhow.

This man, William Nell, was Jack's_ prey_.

The white haired pursuer would be damned if someone intervened in what was _rightfully_ his snag.

A few seconds went by as the young adult's thought process went in round about circles like that. William was by no means gaining ground on him, but, he was indeed fast. For someone of such an age and bulky stealth, it astounded Jack before it simply fueled his need to _capture_ him. The Frost boy somehow managed to pick up the speed and was gaining on the murderer's heals.

The once beautiful colours of the rollercoasters and food stands were meshing together in a blob of bright and sickening blobs of confusion. In a different time (primarily prior to this one) the detective would have liked to stop and stare. Due to night falling upon the park and town, the rides looked so different and surprisingly taller. Their neon hues were being enhanced by even brighter lights flashing and blinking, almost hindering Jack. The metal monstrosities reached into the sky, trying to pull their way off the ground and stretch to the heavens, trying to bring Jack with them. But they simply dwarfed him in size as they brushed the edges of space.

At what appeared similar to a four-way intersection of directions to go, William made a sharp turn to the right and nearly slammed head on into a directional guide. However, the killer missed it by a fraction of an inch.

A _fraction._

The turn took the Frost agent offguard and he had to skid slightly before rounding and snapping on the older male's heels again. To the right, Jack could have sworn he caught sight of Agent Black closing in as well...Though perhaps it was a trick of the mind. In this swirl of contemplative thoughts, Jack had looked away from the ground and a touch to the left, looking for Pitch, a dangerous mistake when chasing.

The next thing Agent Frost knew, his left foot had snagged on a tipped over garbage can. The world slipped from right under his feet and he slammed_ hard_ into the pavement. He managed to weakly forced his left arm out to stall his collision, but that proved to be too much pressure for the wrist bone to handle. Jack _felt_ the crack more than he heard it and his eyes squeezed shut in pure pain.

"_Goddamnit, _you fucking _bastard_! I _will_ catch you, do you hear me you twisted asshole!?" The young adult yelled in a very uncharacteristic manner, course language making that more than evident. He scrambled to his feet, hopped over the trash and held his wounded arm against his chest.

Then he was back on the run, adrenaline quick as lightning through his system, numbing his broken wrist for now.

* * *

Pitch had lost track of everyone else. He found himself pushing through people with variations of: 'Excuse me!' and loud but declarative, 'Move out of the way, _obviously_ this is important!" His patience was thinning as he kept his feet running.

_I'm running so fast I'm running out of patience._

Okay, so perhaps Agent Black needed to work on his jokes, but that wasn't truly important right now. He was keeping his gaze locked on the quick form of a killer while simultaneously watching out for treacherous objects being strewn in front of him to deter his path. It had been several seconds of steady running when Agent Black noticed he had lost William.

Pitch was coming up to a four-way intersection, the man remembered passing through it earlier that day with Frost. The white haired boy had been indecisive on which way to go and so Pitch had abandoned him to simply go off in the most probable direction; Straight ahead. It only took the junior detective five minutes to realize Pitch was gone and a mere two to catch back up.

Nevertheless, this area was familiar.

It was in that very moment that Pitch Black made a very important choice. His eyes darted as the intersection came up. There was no way Mr. Nell would go straight ahead, that'd simply be too easy. For the murderer to take a left, too problematic due to how close his body had been leaning on the right side of the paved paths. That left a single direction and so Pitch swiftly went right, his golden eyes landing on a determined Jack Frost and a near panicking William Nell.

There was a touch of adrenaline coursing through Pitch. He had chased so many criminals that it didn't really do much to his system like that. No, he felt more accomplished when he was able to tackle them, or had a reason to beat them in turn for their lashing at him. When it came down to it, Agent Black thrived on being able to give the criminals a piece of what they deserved. But this, this, was not the fun part. This was the tedious, failure plausible chase that he could tell Jack was obviously enjoying.

_Frost is simply becoming curiouser to me._

There wasn't much space between him and his partner now. Given, William was farther ahead, but with both of them tailgating him? This would surely be a piece of cake.

Until Frost crashed.

Pitch kept running, though it was more out of instinct than decision. His mind wasn't quick enough to really understand what happened. Then he heard the loud, uncharacteristic, declare:

"_Goddamnit_ you fucking bastard! I will _catch_ you, do you hear me you twisted asshole!?"

Now _that_ had almost been enough to make Agent Black falter to a stop. But he honestly had no chance because as soon as it had happened, as soon as Jack had screamed, he was back on his feet and running with new vendiction.

Ah, yes, Pitch was feeling the tugs of a curiosity monster in the waking the more he saw of his partner Jack Frost.

* * *

_Have to run have to run have to run have to run have to run have to run have to run_

_FasterfasterfasterfasterfasterFasterFAsterFaSterFA STErFASTER!_

William had no idea where he was going until he was already there. His body skidded to a halt and he bolted inside of the backstage tent that held all the line up musicians for the upcoming acts. It was an intermission, people of all ages still oblivious to the chase because the park was absolutely adamant on no one becoming aware to it. That was fine by Nell, it made this all the easier. The crowds of humans he had to sift through did not strike out to grab him; So that was fine.

_FinefinefinefinefinefineNot...Notfine...NoNotfine. ..Nononononogoodatall._

He staggarded inside and was pleased to find Rachelle sitting and speaking with one of the lankiest guys William had ever seen. It didn't exactly help that the performer was in tight clothing that seemed to hug and cling to him like a second skin...Though the pants were sagged like a middle aged woman's skin on his body.

_She had loved me once...Loved...Me...No more. No love at all. All alone, she deserves this. She'll be like her, she __**is**__is her. _

"Hey what're you doing back here, you can't-"

He heard the poundning footsteps of the two agents coming close and so William took his chance.

"Shut up," He ordered, grabbing Rachelle by her long hair, an iron fist keeping it locked in a painful grip.

_Betrayal...Be...Trayal...Betrayalbetrayalbetrayalb etrayal._

She shrieked in pain and stood up, hunched over as she tried to lessen the pulling of hair. It felt like a clump was going to be torn from her skull. The other male in the room darted up from his seat and tried to grab at Mr. Nell, to try and push him away. The killer simply looked at the guy with a stare devoid of sanity and the performer backed off, his eyeliner masked eyes wide.

William dragged the protesting girl to his chest, holding her there in a less than familiar hug. She screamed and clawed at his arms, a touch of blood catching under her nails and she thrashed...Until the killer swiped the knife across her hand and arm. It was a long, jagged gash that bled profusely.

"_Jasper_!" She shrieked, pleading at the skinny boy with frightened eyes, "Help me! Please!"

The performer, _Jasper, _ made no inclination to move.

William leaned forward and pressed his mouth dangerously close to the trapped girl's ear, "It would do you well to-"

"Let her go," Pitch interrupted, as if on cue. Him and Jack, both breathing heavy but not quite worn out, stood side by side looking at the murderous individual. Tears spotted at Rachelle's green orbs and a few leaked down her cheeks. Albeit she was quite silent, her shoulders shook with the obvious efforts of suppressed sobs.

"I-I can't! You don't understand," William replied, his hand bearing the knife quivering centimeters above Rachelle's fresh wound.

Jack's iridescent hues slid a bit to the peripheral left and caught the sight of funky coloured hair, realizing Jamie and Tooth must have been in position in case anything went south, he snapped himself back to attention.

"Of course you can," Pitch's voice was smooth and soft, like the sort a parent uses on a misbehaving child as he tried to coax Mr. Nell out of his state of panic and insanity.

Jack's arm was beginning to throb in more flaring pain but he bit his tongue. He couldn't exactly address the damaged limb now...His other hand was fingering the gun he still had. If necessary, he would have it out in a flash, pointing directly at the bastard's head...Ready to aim, shoot, and-

"Fire. She fired me! She was such a beautiful, classy woman. We'd made sweet love after playing pieces for one another," Jack resisted the urge to faux-vomit, "But...But, she dared tell me I was unbefitting of a place as principal!? How dare she! I was skilled, I was above her in all ranks, including on the job! She only cared about money..." Jack blinked slowly, "There was no love there...Just dollar signs."

Pitch pulled out his gun slowly, pointing the black-as-night weapon at the enemy. The agent was willing to try one more time...Before he would find it necessary to impair Mr. Nell and have him taken away.

"There's nothing wrong with being 'not good enough'," Jack spoke before Pitch had a chance to, "So what if you couldn't fit her standards? You should hold yourself to your own and do as according."

William's eyes widened and then he blinked while shaking his head, "Y-You're saying that! But you don't know, she was my everything, how hard is that to grasp!? Everyone's loved someone before...You have to understand-"

"I don't," The junior detective intervened again, "I have never loved someone to such an extent as you obviously do for your divorcee'. I didn't exactly have the chance to..." Pitch's inauspicious eyes flickered to Jack before returning to William as he continued, "But it honestly doesn't matter. Love is a chemical reaction in the brain caused by releases of dopamine, adrenaline, and serotonin. Oxytocin and Vasopressin are others released during and after sex. Its all a simple breakdown, really, and you're _obviously_ starved from it to a point where it has drove you nuts-"

"_Frost_ _right now may not be the best time to be a damned encyclopedia_!" Pitch whispered in a harsh tone.

But it was too late, William's eyes flared with rage so potent, it was almost tangible int he air.

"Then you're just like her! You're a man, you call me as she did-_Oh Mr. Nell!_ But you're her! Heartless, cold blooded..." The man threw Rachelle to the ground and leapt at Jack. His wrinkled face was pulled back in a snarl, much like an animals', and he screamed in rage. His voice rang throughout the tent as a sort of desperate cry, one full of pain and insnaity. His arms were outstretched, ready to wring the insolent boy's neck-His vision was corrupted, instead of Jack, the ex-principal saw his wife in a splendid dress adorned with sequins and frills. Mrs. Nell's hair was just as those years ago, pinned back and short with bangs framing her angled features. She was lovely, an _angel_, but her eyes were green like poison and bore into him with disdain and hatred...Green like the colour of money that has been touched by too many hands,_ dirty_, and so very not in love with him.

Yet, before his body even met Jack's, Pitch had shot him in the shoulder. It wasn't enough to kill him or even fatally harm the man...No, just a method decent enough for use in stunning and effectively getting him away from his partner. The initial shock was enough to snap William's vision back to normal, white hair and black tendrils clouding his vision. To the side somewhere, he could hear the now free sobs of Rachelle being released to the open. A man with mousy brown hair and brown eyes was helping her up, getting her safely out of there.

Jamie nodded at the duo detectives as he slung Rachelle out with a voice dripping with kindness, telling her it was all okay.

Jack Frost stared at William who began to get back up, but was held down by a random officer as cuffs were slinked about his wrists. Another figure came in, a woman he did not know, followed by North. The junior detective looked at the ex-principal and strode so close he was almost nose-to-nose with the man...Given, he did have to look an inclination upward to meet the glare.

"Cold hearted?-Me? You're probably right, its a block of ice in here." Jack pointed to where his heart would be before William was promptly taken away by several men. He turned and called after the criminal in a quiet voice, "Of course I'm cold, just like the_ Jack Frost_ in those fairytales. Comes with sharing the name I assume."

The agent ran a hand through his snowy tendrils, relief finally flooding him to the max. The case was over...The case was over! His first one and it had, more or less, been a great success. There was a small piece of pride lingering in his chest that just wouldn't diminish as he smiled to himself. The junior detective took a deep, settling breath before turning around to meet with his companions that were chatting and distributing necessary information to the cops that had appeared from seemingly nowhere. Pitch looked tired, though not overly so. Jamie and Tooth appeared wired up from the bust in and catching the bleeding man on the floor. Jack wondered faintly what he looked like, probably a mess, really. Rachelle stood outside the tent, sitting on the back of an ambulance.

_Seems like the park couldn't keep this on the downlow after all._

Other than her shaking shoulders and downcast eyes, she appeared as if she'd be alright.

_At least I was able to save someone._

She looked up as if she felt the pinning gaze on her and glanced around, seeing Jack looking at her immediately. She produced a small, yet genuine, smile and mouthed a silent, 'Thank you.'

The youth shrugged his shoulders and smiled, giving a curt nod in acknowledgment.

"A successful case, wasn't it?" Came a booming voice from behind. Jack turned around and nearly bumped his nose into the broad and sturdy chest of his superior; North.

The robust officer took one look at Jack's arm and his eyes stared wide, large, calloused hands suddenly reaching for the damanged limb as if he wanted to fix it himself, maybe bend it back into shape even. The junior leaned back, laughing nervously, the pain was now coursing through his system at full force. He also absently noted he must have nicked a small scratch along his cheek because that as well was burning with the need of a bandaid and some salve.

"Jack...your arm, its-"

"Broken, broken, I know. I feel it, thank you." The young adult chided, "But don't think you can just touch it! It hurts enough as is, alright?"

The mentioning of a broken bone had Toothiana on the poor agent in mere seconds. She seemingly flitted over, like a hummingbird almost, and was gazing at it from all sorts of angles. Jamie and Pitch simply stood back, watching.

"Guys, really. Calm down, its just cracked, it'll heal-"

"Don't be so nonchalant!" Tooth nearly screeched, "Bones are as fragile as they are strong! They're extremely important and you ran with it in such a condition, it might be out of place now and...Are your teeth alright at least?" He tried to dodge her insistant hands as her petite fingers and perfectly manicured nails pried his mouth open. She gave a quick inspection and released him with a far too relieved sigh. "Oh thank heavens, they're fine!"

Pitch crossed his arms, "Adrenaline is a hell of a novacaine, isn't it? I bet you didn't even feel it with the way you were going after that killer."

Auriferous orbs clashed upon meeting ones of a challenging blue crystalline, "Yeah. 'Guess so, I've always liked running."

"That wasn't running," The senior detective relayed, "That was chasing."

* * *

**A/N:** In our next chapter,_ Two Jacks for the Price of One_, we finally can meet Sanderson...And after such a successful end to a case, who wouldn't want to go out for drinks in celebration? But we all know someone underaged can't really handle their alcohol too well~ Ooh! And soon we'll be learning more about Pitchy-kins background too! :D

Gosh, I'm learning so many synonyms for the words "gold" or "golden" so I can keep varying the description of Pitch's eyes. I think auriferous is a really nice adjective, heh. But inauspicious seemingly fits more IMO, makes them sound dark...But pretty.


End file.
